Broken Hearts

By Robert LJ Borg

Is a cemetery the perfect setting for love to be found? Maybe. When Damian meets Elspeth at one, he’s certain she is his long-awaited soulmate. . ., but he’s been wrong before!

Damian Marshall had always believed himself to be a bit of a ladies’ man. He loved nothing more than dating women and enjoying their company, always hoping he would meet the love of his life. However, it never seemed to be. His love affairs would be short-lived, and two which seemed successful ended in divorce, where every time the broken hearts were always his own.

Just when he thinks there is no more hope in finding that perfect woman, he meets Elspeth, in the most unlikely of locations: a cemetery.

It is she who approaches him and strikes up a conversation. She coaxes out his life story, and he is willing to recount it all. By the end of it, they find themselves drawn to each other. Has Damian finally met his true soul mate or is it just wishful thinking? Only time will tell.

PUBLISHER NOTE: Contemporary Light-Hearted Drama with Paranormal & Romantic Elements. 85,000 words. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luminosity Publishing LLP
• Release date: Dec 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005444723

Robert LJ Borg

Robert L J Borg was educated in London, England and has always held a passion for History and English Literature.Robert has been writing non-fiction, children’s fiction, poetry and adult fiction since the 1990s having been inspired by his mother, Viviane Elisabeth Borg, who is also a published author.Although he immigrated to Sydney, Australia in 1988 and became an Australian citizen in 1991, Robert has since relocated to Europe. He currently resides in Golfe Juan in Southern France.

Book preview

BR KEN HEARTS

ROBERT LJ BORG

Is a cemetery the perfect setting for love to be found? Maybe. When Damian meets Elspeth at one, he’s certain she is his long-awaited soulmate. . ., but he’s been wrong before!

Damian Marshall had always believed himself to be a bit of a ladies’ man. He loved nothing more than dating women and enjoying their company, always hoping he would meet the love of his life. However, it never seemed to be. His love affairs would be short-lived, and two which seemed successful ended in divorce, where every time the broken hearts were always his own.

Just when he thinks there is no more hope in finding that perfect woman, he meets Elspeth, in the most unlikely of locations: a cemetery.

It is she who approaches him and strikes up a conversation. She coaxes out his life story, and he is willing to recount it all. By the end of it, they find themselves drawn to each other. Has Damian finally met his true soul mate or is it just wishful thinking? Only time will tell.

PUBLISHER NOTE: Contemporary Light-Hearted Drama with Paranormal & Romantic Elements. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

BR KEN HEARTS

ROBERT LJ BORG

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LUMINOSITY PUBLISHING LLP

BROKEN HEARTS

Copyright © DECEMBER 2022 ROBERT LJ BORG

Cover Art by Poppy Designs

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this literary work may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher.

This work is based on true events. All characters in this book have been renamed to protect their identities. Some events and characters have been created to enhance the story, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademark status and the following trademark owners mentioned in this work of fiction:

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DEDICATION

To all my past loves — you know who you are!

PROLOGUE

Sunday 23rd October 2022

I haven’t seen you here before, she said to him.

It was early morning, and as always Damian had gone out for a walk with his dog, a dark chocolate-coloured Labrador, which some people always mistook for black, around his local suburb located in north-west London before popping into the chapel for a short prayer to speak to ‘God’; he so much preferred to do so when the place was empty and there was no one else around so he could be at peace. Then, almost as a ritual, he would find a bench in the churchyard where he could sit amongst the graves of those long departed and contemplate what his day would bring.

Usually, he would remain there for thirty minutes or so, gazing blankly at the headstones nearby, sometimes reading the epitaphs and wondering who these people were in life, and what their lives were like; often hoping, they’d been happier than he was feeling at that moment.

Not that he hadn’t had a full life — in a way, he did have one, but not one as he’d hoped for. Mind you, even though he’d thought about it many times, he wasn’t quite sure what those ‘hopes’ were. He supposed, that like with so many of his friends, the one thing he had craved for the most, was a long and successful romantic relationship — one that would lead to a blissful marriage, with children and eventually grandchildren gathered around him. For Damian, though, he hadn’t been that lucky, well not yet that is. However, time was running out. He was now in his early seventies; how long did he have left? Despite all the romances he did have, apart from two or three where he thought ‘they would be the one’, in the end, they too were yet another non-starter.

Damian looked up at the speaker. She was of average height and build, had shoulder-length chestnut-coloured hair, and a fair complexion. She was wearing a light-brown polo-necked sweater that was tucked into a contrasting long beige skirt, buttoned at the front, that ended about six inches above her ankles. He noticed she was wearing a pair of stylish short black boots. She was smiling at him.

I’m usually here, but I expect our paths don’t always cross. Would you care to sit down? Damian said, shifting his position to make a space next to him. I like to come here from time to time as it’s so peaceful. . ., don’t you think?

Is he yours? she said indicating the dog lying down on the grass verge not too far away. He seems to be pining a fair bit! Is he okay?

He’s probably whinging that he hasn’t had his breakfast yet. . ., Damian said with a smile, but, he can wait a bit longer, besides, like his master, he’s putting on a bit of weight. . ., not a good thing when you’ve already got a dodgy heart — that’s me, that is. . ., he’s as strong as an ox! he added pointing at the dog.

Now that she was seated next to him, he could study her face better. Her eyes were hazel with a hint of green in them. Set against her pale skin, they seemed to shine out. They were accentuated by a very small amount of eye makeup, and hardly any mascara on her lashes. She had a small nose, which suited her face beautifully, above a full, sensual mouth and thin lips.

Oh, and yes, I do find it very peaceful here, especially at this time of the day, she agreed, realising she hadn’t answered his earlier question. Her voice was mellow, with a soothing tone.

It was a sound Damian would wish to hear every day if at all possible. He instinctively glanced at her left hand; there was no ring, but he thought he could make out a small indentation, as though there had been one not so long ago. At a guess, she was aged in her mid to late fifties. She certainly was very attractive, at least in his eyes, she was.

It’s not as though I used to make a habit of coming here; just every now and again to pay my respects to my long-departed family members. And you? she continued.

Yes, I too have family buried here — not all in the same location, so I do tend to sit at other spots as well, provided there is a suitable bench.

Suitable?

One that’s not too covered with bird droppings! Damian said lightly.

She laughed. Yes, the pigeons, in particular, are a bit of a nuisance in that department! she giggled.

Forgive my manners, my name is Damian Marshall, he said holding out his hand by way of introduction.

She took it in hers. It was a firm grip, but gentle at the same time.

I’m Elspeth. . ., Elspeth Byrnes, I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.

A beautiful name. . ., it suits you.

I expect my parents thought so too.

It looks as though it’s going to be another gloriously sunny, though cold Autumn day, he said changing the subject.

Did you have any nice plans for it? she asked.

Damian detected a hint of genuine interest, as though, her own day wasn’t going to be very exciting.

I hadn’t thought much about it, to be honest. At this point in time, I’d rather sit here and talk to you. . ., unless of course you need to be someplace else?

She shook her head, and he loved the way her hair, swished across her shoulders as she did so.

That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time, she said honestly, be it a trifle sadly.

I find that hard to believe, Damian responded, somewhat surprised. How could any man resist being with such a beautiful woman; and from the way she spoke, he detected she was a highly intelligent one as well.

Well, believe it or not, it’s true. She lowered her eyes for a moment before looking back into his own. Are you married? she asked, then bit her bottom lip. Sorry, that was an inappropriate thing to say, she quickly apologised.

There’s no need to apologise. . ., I’m actually divorced. . ., twice over to be precise. I must admit, when it comes to my love-life, it hasn’t been much of a successful one, he said sadly.

Do you want to talk about it? she said in a gentle, caring voice.

Why not. . ., it may even amuse you, it certainly does me. . ., although at times I’d have described my life more of a tragedy than a comedy, he said sadly. The difficulty is, it’s hard to know where to start!

Try from the beginning?

I suppose, from a very early age I was surrounded by women. Like everyone else, I’d expect, there was mum, my grandmothers, aunties, sisters, cousins, etcetera, he said, and he saw her nod in agreement.

Then, of course, came their friends, and in time my friends also, though I never looked at any too seriously until I attained puberty. . ., then everything changed.

I think, that goes without saying, for everyone, Elspeth commented, but, do go on, she added.

CHAPTER 1

Mid to Late 1960s

Damian closed his eyes as he turned the clock back in his mind, trying to remember the exact point in time when he’d first kissed a girl on the lips.

My parents had moved us into an apartment block in Hampstead when we were still very young.

We? Elspeth interrupted.

Me and my sisters, he elaborated, and Elspeth nodded understanding, so he continued, the building had about a dozen flats, but only a handful were occupied with families that included kids.

It must have been lively!

And noisy. . ., can you imagine all those children running around the place shouting at the top of their voices, as kids do when playing, goodness! I would have hated being an adult with such a racket going on. . ., I would have been forever shouting at them to ‘shut up’!

Elspeth was smiling.

I have to admit, there were times, my own children gave me a headache more than once when they were little, either bickering about something or another or just shrieking from sheer joy when playing together, she said, as she too thought back.

Damian gave a short laugh; at least, she sympathised, so he didn’t see himself as an ogre.

Anyway, as we grew up together, we all became close, but I was closer with a girl named Lauren. She had dark brown hair, almost black, and brown eyes. She was about two years younger, but we still got on well together. Her forte was music and was extremely talented, especially on the piano. She was one of those people who can hear a tune once and replicate it instantly from memory.

I suppose it’s like having a photographic memory, but for music? Elspeth remarked.

How about yourself? Do you play any instruments? Damian asked, genuinely interested.

Only the piano; but nowhere as talented as your friend. She grinned. What about you? Do you play anything?

Damian shook his head.

Nothing except the record player!

She burst out laughing. He did so like her laugh. He smiled.

So, did you two fall in love when you grew older?

Not really. . ., but we did explore each other intimately, and because of it had created a special bond between us and have remained close friends ever since.

Which, technically, made her your first girlfriend?

Put that way, I suppose she was. But I don’t think I could say we were ever in ‘love’, not in the sense, that one portrays love affairs as all out sex.

Yet you say, you were intimate with each other?

We were, and we weren’t. . ., I think if anything, it was a question of mutual curiosity. As we grew older, we wanted to know what made us so different — the difference being our private parts; so, we ‘looked’ and ‘touched’.

That sounds quite erotic, she said, her cheeks suddenly flushing.

Sorry, am I making you feel uncomfortable?

Not at all. . ., do continue; it’s not every day a man is so honest with his past.

And I’ve only just started. . ., there is so much more to come! Are you sure you want to hear the rest?

She nodded.

I really don’t know why she and I didn’t become ‘lovers’ down the track, but I expect we both went down different paths, what with school and our own separate friends. Though as time went on, our friends became intermingled with one another, thus increasing our ‘friendship’ base.

Where did you go to school? Was it near here? Elspeth asked.

Primary school was not too far away from where we lived — walking distance, in fact; and it’s there, that I met my very first male friend, Stephen, who remains close even today. When it came to the next stage of my education, I was sent to a grammar school at Wembley in Middlesex, then I had to get there by train. Actually, it was thanks to Stephen I was to meet my very first real girlfriend a few years later.

What do you mean by ‘real’?

Real, in the sense, that she and I had made love. The girlfriends I’d gone out with before her, and there were a few, we never had gone that far.

How many is a ‘few’?

Damian remained silent for a while as he thought back.

About half a dozen. . ., I think, he told her. "The first one who comes to mind was Vicky. I met her through one of my cousins, William. He lives overseas with his family and had come over to us on holiday one year. It was 1968. I remember because I had just passed my driving test and had borrowed my dad’s car, a rather large and heavy Humber Hawk — no power steering in those days — to drive the two of us to Ascot in Berkshire. William had a girlfriend whom I think he’d met when her family lived near him. Her father was a bigwig in the Royal Airforce and was stationed there. Anyway, to cut a long story short, William must have told her, sorry, I don’t remember her name, after all, it was a long time ago, that he was coming to see her together with me. So, when we arrived at the house, for lunch no less, she’d had a friend to make up a foursome.

It was a beautiful house, with a swimming pool, not far from the famous racecourse. We sat around the table with the parents and enjoyed a lovely meal; William, as always, being the comedian, ensured the conversation was lively. After lunch, I volunteered to take the four of us for a short drive. Vicky sat in the front with me, whilst William and his girlfriend got up to no good in the back. I remember stopping in a country lane somewhere, and Vicky let me kiss her. It was the start of a little romance.

How long did it last? Elspeth asked.

A couple of months or so. Vicky’s family lived in Tunbridge Wells, Kent. She used to attend the Cordon Bleu school, which was based in west London, so from time to time we would meet up ‘after school’.

A special type of homework?

Damian laughed at her wit.

That’s one way of putting it, he nodded. Anyway, I went and spent a weekend at her family’s home; no doubt mummy and daddy had heard so much about me, that it was time for them to meet this boy who was the centre of their daughter’s distraction.

And did they approve?

Damian shook his head.

It had been a wonderful weekend. Vicky had a green mini car, and we drove down to Brighton on the Saturday for lunch. I took her to a quaint little café and had fish and chips. We stopped in a laneway on the return trip and necked for a while. I suppose my mistake was when telling mummy of lunch; what I should have said: ‘we had grilled lemon sole served with steamed summer vegetables and a side of shallow fried Julienne potatoes’; Somehow, the mention of fish and chips at the seaside must have conjured up some tasteless image in her head, because a few days later I received a letter from Vicky saying she was no longer allowed to see me again.

That’s unfair! Elspeth said indignantly.

I was obviously not good enough for their daughter. . ., it was upsetting, but youth has a way of making you bounce back.

It didn’t really matter all that much, because not long afterwards, and thanks to Lauren I was introduced to Linda — a rather tall, leggy-blonde with blue eyes. To be fair, she wasn’t a girlfriend as such, it was more of a platonic relationship, and we were only brought together by default.

By default? Whatever do you mean? Elspeth asked, her brows narrowed as though confused by the remark.

In the sense that we were two groups of friends, mine and Lauren’s, who met up at the fair ground on Hampstead Heath. As my friends partnered themselves off with the other girls, Linda and I were the last ones standing, so to speak, and as such conceded in pairing up. We had a few laughs; met up to go to the pictures, or tenpin bowling a few times, but after a while, the friendship just seemed to fizzle out.

That always happens, though, especially when we were young and at school; friends just come and go, Elspeth agreed.

True, but some do last a lifetime.

Very few, I’d expect, Elspeth stated.

Damian waited to see whether she was going to say anything else; when she didn’t, he resumed his story.

1969 turned out to be an interesting year. Apart from Neil Armstrong walking on the moon, and me seeing the Rolling Stones performing live at Hyde Park, I had changed school again. The grammar school in Wembley had shut up shop, so my parents had to find someplace else for me to continue my education. Note, that I was older than most, but I still hadn’t done my A Levels.

Why was that?

Had it been today, the educators would have recognised I had a learning deficiency and would have made allowances, perhaps given me some extra counselling as they do to kids these days. Back then, because I wasn’t learning as fast as my peers, I was being accused of being lazy, or constantly daydreaming, for which I received regular canings from the headmaster when I was in primary school, and detention when at senior school.

Were your parents not concerned for the slowness you had?

Damian nodded.

They did their best; even employed private tutors to teach me some subjects at home. One of my cousins, Ron, bless him, helped me with mathematics and physics. I did get through my examinations. . ., eventually; but it did take some time, Damian explained. One thing I didn’t need help with was making friends with girls — I had a knack for it; the only problem was they didn’t hang around long enough!

What was your longest relationship? she asked genuinely interested.

Close on thirty years. . ., but that didn’t happen until much later in my life. For now, though, I had begun a new grammar school in Finchley Central in the autumn of 1968, and the curriculum included some subjects that were new to me. One of them was geology, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially when our teacher took us on field trips. The best one was in April of the following year when six of us were taken to the Lake District. We did a lot of hiking, staying at youth hostels, and needless to  say, meeting up with other students from around the country, so that in the evenings when we were liberated to more casual pursuits, it didn’t take long to find a willing girl for a kiss and a cuddle! Damian stopped for a moment to catch his breath, and to glance at Elspeth, who was quietly absorbing his story. You’re blushing again! He smiled.

I’m not. . ., am I? the question made her cheeks flush all the more, making Damian chuckle. So, did you meet anyone special there?

When we were in Keswick, we’d been made to climb Great Gable — that was an incredible feat for me, and I still have a photo of me sitting on the very top of the mountain. Nowadays I’d be lucky to climb a flight of stairs! Damian said sadly, but then, we were young and had the stamina to do a lot more things. Anyway, I’m getting side-tracked. At Keswick I had met a girl from Wigan named Janet; at Ambleside, there was Pamela from Liverpool, but the best one was at Grasmere. She was named Bridgette and lived in Chester. I corresponded with the three of them for a while when I returned to London, but as always, nothing ever lasts, especially when there was a great distance between us.

With Bridgette, though, we did remain pen-pals for quite some time, but my needs required me to have a girlfriend nearby, not across the country. Fortunately, that summer, the school hosted a dance, and there I met Kathy. Oddly, my memory of her is a bit vague; though only recently, me and my friend Stephen were reminiscing about those days, and he remembered her better than me! He told me we’d been together for a month or so, and yet, I remember nothing!

That sounds to me, that you didn’t really care for her!

Perhaps you’re right. He nodded in agreement.

In all honesty, I think you were trying too hard to find the perfect woman, Elspeth remarked seriously.

Maybe, I still am?

She tilted her head slightly sideways again as though trying to read some deeper meaning at his sentiments.

From what you’ve told me so far, you don’t seem the type of person to give up too easily on your mission?

CHAPTER 2

Early 1970s

You’re right, but you’d think I should have learned by now that, where distance is concerned, having a meaningful relationship with someone is as good as impossible, Damian said sincerely.

Well, you did say, you were a slow learner! She grinned.

Our geography teacher took us on another field trip, this time to South Wales. We were based at a youth hostel in the town of Caerphilly, and from there went on a hike to the Brecon Beacons; to Cardiff to learn about city planning, and to the steel works at Port Talbot. However, the most memorable thing that happened was one evening at the local community centre where a dance was being held, though it must have been the church hall, because I had been blinded by the apparition of an angel. Damian’s voice changed tone, becoming slightly softer.

From the sound of it, she must have been really special? she asked gently. What did she look like?

Damian stared deeply into her eyes, as though searching out her soul. It made her feel slightly uneasy, though at the same time she realised he was remembering someone he truly cared about.

The best way to describe her would be a younger version of you, he said sincerely, except her hair colour was more of a strawberry-blonde, not such a rich chestnut-colour like yours! He smiled.

Elspeth blushed at the compliment, then asked: What was her name?

Vivienne. . ., apparently it originates from an old French word meaning ‘life’, Damian told her. It certainly suited her as she had a most delightful vivacious personality.

It must have been hard to return to London; by the way you’re remembering her, it sounds to me you would have preferred to have remained in Wales?

The weekend after we returned home, I had driven back to Caerphilly to be with her. I stayed a couple of days. Her family were really lovely people. They put me up in the spare room, and Viv sneaked in during the night.

Did you make love to her? Elspeth asked coyly.

Unfortunately, no, he replied, deep regret in his tone. We just lay naked, closely together, but that’s as far as it went.

Was that her decision, or yours?

In all honesty, I don’t remember. . ., though perhaps, it was a joint understanding; after all, being in the house with her parents not too far away might have proved awkward; we were already taking a huge risk at being caught.

Did you see each other again after that weekend?

He nodded.

A few times. And we corresponded regularly. . ., she even came to stay at our house once. He recalled the weekend as though it were yesterday. Then, one day, I received a letter telling me she had met a someone else, and he’d proposed to marry her!

I’m sorry; that must have truly hurt?

Damian didn’t reply straight away, and she assumed he was trying to